


Going Home

by theyoungestone



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Smut, a romance in rural wisconsin, because of course, i actually put a lot of thought into the plot and the characters, there's a considerable amount of angst in here, this is heart warming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 06:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20670584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyoungestone/pseuds/theyoungestone
Summary: Trixie is a struggling Hollywood starlet who returns to the middle of rural Wisconsin after her grandmother leaves her the family home in her will. None of her old friends are there. None of her old neighbors. But the new girl down the street - the crazy blonde that everyone warned her to stay away from - has some sort of magnetic pull she can't resist. Will she stay in Wisconsin and try to find some inspiration? Or will she return to LA to pursue her dreams?





	1. Chapter 1

She didn’t want to be back here. The last place, and she meant the last fucking place, she ever imagined coming back to was rural Wisconsin. There was a whole lot of nothing there. Maybe some cheese, a couple random homesteads, and lots of deer, would be her only companions until she could figure out what the fuck her next move was going to be.

Things weren’t going particularly bad for Trixie, but they weren’t going particularly great either. Her dreams of being a country singer weren’t exactly out of reach, but they weren’t coming true anytime soon. She did some backup vocals, sold a couple songs to bigger record companies to outsource, and even got a couple nights at a dive bar in LA singing her original compositions. Nowhere near Dolly, but she wasn’t a complete failure.

That was, until her manager dumped her a couple days ago. It was completely out of the blue and Trixie didn’t expect it to hit her so deeply. Her manager claimed it was because the company was sold and trying to downsize, so they had to cut a few clients. Of course, it was “nothing personal” but Trixie could only be told that so many times before it began to feel kind of personal.

She was in the process of finding another management company when her mother called her. She never talked to her mom, not even on holidays or birthdays. The relationship wasn’t exactly ideal from the beginning. In fact, when she was younger, it got so bad that Trixie went to live with her grandparents and never looked back. Her mom didn’t try to fix anything or offer any apologies (thank god!) but she informed Trixie that her grandmother had died and left the house, land, and everything in it, to Trixie. Her mom didn’t sound upset by this news, if anything, she sounded a little disgusted that she would have to deal with this as if it was just another inconvenience in her life.

Trixie packed up her things and took the first flight out of LAX to Milwaukee she could find. Her grandparents had raised her, taught her all about the world, and believed in her when no one else did. Her grandfather had passed years ago, but at the passing of her grandmother, Trixie was especially upset. Her grandmother taught her how to cook, how to balance a checking account, and even how to change a tire with nothing but a bobby pin, quarter, and zip tie (it’s possible). 

She loved her grandparents dearly, really, she did, but when she left for Los Angeles, Trixie very clearly stated that she wouldn’t be returning to Wisconsin. Now, she didn’t really have much choice. They had left her the house, as well as all their things, so she had to go deal with that, whatever that meant.

The plane ride was long, giving her plenty of time to think. She could always put it all up for an estate sale and make some money off it. Or, she could let a bunch of auctioneers take what they want and donate the rest. Hell, she could donate all of it, the house wasn’t anything spectacular and they didn’t have anything that held more value than sentimental. 

The last option was the one she didn’t want to think about. She could stay in Wisconsin for a while and live in her grandparent’s house, her childhood home, where she swore she’d never return. She had nothing in LA, her agent had dumped her, her career wasn’t taking off, her apartment was overpriced and too small, and there was traffic and crowds all the time. She didn’t have any compelling reason to return to the West Coast, but she didn’t want to live out her life, work an average job in a below average town, and be completely unmemorable to everyone she ever met.

In fact, Trixie spent the majority of her time trying to be incredibly memorable. She wore full Barbie couture any time she left the house along with a full face of makeup, which included bright pink lipstick, lots of eyeliner and mascara, and contour that could be seen from the moon. She thought, at least, that her songs came from the heart and made people feel things. She couldn’t be another average person who’s LA career dreams failed, so they moved back home. No. She wasn’t about to let that happen. She had to get rid of the house.

She retrieved her luggage from the baggage claim and hauled it out of the airport into the first taxi she saw. Milwaukee probably had Uber at this point, but no driver would accept a ride to the middle of the country, three hours away from civilization. There was no way in hell her mother was going to pick her up, so Trixie had no choice but to resort to the traditional taxi.

She told the driver the address and he turned around, giving her a confused look. The deep lines in his aging face, caused by years of staring at the rode, only harshened his expression. Regardless, he pulled away from the curb, driving Trixie back to her grandparent’s house, or what she thought must be her house now.

She popped in her earbuds and stared out the window, watching as the cityscape turned into the suburbs, before turning into forest. She truly was a country bumpkin; this is where she came from. 

The driver pulled up to the front porch and graciously pulled her luggage out of the trunk as Trixie paid him, leaving a generous tip for the inconvenience she obviously caused him by driving so far outside the city.

The house looked exactly the same as it did when she was a kid. A long, winding, gravel driveway carved its way through the woods before arriving at the wooden home. The exposed wood of the house was a shade darker than usual, indicating it must have just rained. The cape cod style wasn’t Trixie’s taste, but it held a special place in her heart, since its where her finest memories were. It boasted a large front porch with two rocking chairs, where her grandparents could often be found relaxing, enjoying the sunset that graced the sky every evening in front of them. Trixie never liked rocking chairs, the constant movement made her uneasy rather than soothed, but she spent many evenings alongside her grandparents here, sitting on the front steps, watching the sky turn shades of pink, orange, and purple, before descending into darkness.

In the driveway in front of the attached two car garage, a rusted red car with no license plate sat, dripping oil to the gravel below. Trixie knew who it belonged to and she let out an exhale of defeat upon seeing it. Her mom was here. That was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

She didn’t expect her mom to show up, really, she didn’t. At least, not until she absolutely had to be there. Trixie had expected to be the one handling all the funeral preparations, managing the execution of the will, and all other aspects associating with her grandmother’s death. She had to do it for her grandfather a few years ago when she was still a teenager while her mom was nowhere to be seen, so she had some practice, but she also had her grandmother for help. This time, she was prepared to do it on her own, and she would, regardless of what her mother wanted.

She fumbled with the front door only to find it unlocked. Upon opening it, she was hit with the familiar scent of cinnamon, which her grandmother always had tucked in corners to “make sure the house smelled inviting.” Her eardrums were assaulted with the all too loud, all too familiar, sound of Wheel of Fortune coming from the dinosaur-style television in the living room. Her mother must be in there, folding herself into the couch. The volume was so loud that her mother must not have heard her enter, so Trixie continued upstairs to where her bedroom had once been to at least put her luggage down and maybe decompress from the travel here.

To her surprise, the room remained the exact same as it did when she left. It was practically untouched, except for a few dust bunnies in the corners. The baby pink walls adorned with old Dolly Parton posters complimented the white comforter and glittery throw pillows. Her desk and dresser remained in the same place, while her closet was empty. It was as if her grandparents were waiting for her to return, not because they thought she would fail in California, but because they wanted her to come back for visits.

Successfully depressed, Trixie began unpacking and filling her closet with a couple items. She laid out her shoes, put her guitar in the corner where it always sat, and fluffed her bedsheets. They smelled like the detergent her grandmother always used, so she assumed they would be clean enough, at least for tonight.

When she couldn’t avoid it any longer, Trixie stepped down the creaky stairs to confront her mother. She might as well just rip the band aid off and get it over with. 

Trixie hadn’t seen her mom since her grandfather’s funeral. The time before that, she was ten and being escorted by child protective services to her grandparent’s care. She knew what her mom looked like, sure, but nothing prepared her for what she would see when she rounded the corner to the living room.

Tucked into the dingy plaid couch, laid a woman who must have been her mom. Trixie didn’t have any words to describe what she was seeing. Her mom was a shell of a person, frail and brittle looking, years of smoking and drinking not kind to her appearance. Her stringy hair was bleached blonde at one point, but she had neglected her roots, which had grown out brown about halfway down her head. 

“Hi Mom,” Trixie started, breaking the silence.

With an exasperated sigh, her mother heaved herself off the couch enough to reach out to the coffee table and mute the TV, right as one of the contestants was about to guess the phrase on the green tile board. 

“Trixie, I’m in the middle of something,” her mother gestured to the TV, which was lighting up with a bunch of colors. The contestant must have guessed correctly.

Trixie was about to walk away, and let her mother continue to become engrossed in the program before her, just like she used to do when she was a small child.

“You know what, no!” Trixie screeched, bending down to steal the remote from her mother’s grasp and shut the TV off. “You do not get to dismiss me like that, not anymore. We have some shit we need to work out Mom, whether you like it or not.”

“Really, Trixie? Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Her mother looked up at her, dark brown eyes surrounded by purple hollows.

“This is my house now, technically. I make the rules here,” Trixie knew it was a juvenile argument, sure. But if it got her mother’s attention, it was worth it.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving anyway. I was just waiting for Wheel of Fortune to be over. I didn’t know you’d arrive so soon,” Her mother half joked but also half told the truth. She had managed to make Trixie feel like the biggest inconvenience in her life since she was a young child. Even though she was fully grown and moved out, it still got under her skin.

“Don’t you want to be involved in the plans? Get your portion of the will? I’m sure Granny left you something,” Trixie could feel her blood beginning to boil and her voice get higher pitched.

Her mother huffed under her breath as she stood eye level with Trixie. From this close up, Trixie could see in vivid detail how unkind the years had been to her, from the leather looking skin to the yellowing teeth, her mother didn’t look like the person she remembered her to be. However, there was always the possibility that her memory was wrong.

“Send it to me once its finalized,” her mother said, slipping on her shoes as she made her way to the front door.

“Nice to see you too, Mom. Always a treat!” Trixie hollered behind her as the door slammed shut. 

She sunk into the armchair next to the couch that her mother had previously occupied. She tried to laugh away the pain and the fact that her mother still wanted nothing to do with her after two decades but found herself crying instead. They weren’t the open mouthed, wailing sobs that used to come when she thought of her mother but rather a few tears here and there, accompanied by the occasional sniffle. She was probably just tired, overwhelmed, and still coping with the loss of her grandmother.

Trixie wandered around the house, taking inventory of everything and reliving the memories. Practically nothing had changed in the years since she had previously visited. There wasn’t even a layer of dust on the darker pieces of furniture or haloing the knick knacks, as if her grandmother had just cleaned a few days ago. 

She returned to her bedroom and flopped down on the fluffy white comforter. She would deal with the inevitable decision of having to sell the house or move back here when daylight returned.

\------

Daylight broke through her flimsy curtains entirely too early the next day. Trixie groaned and rolled over, throwing a pillow over her head in a desperate attempt to shield out the light. She was just able to doze off when she heard the familiar noise of a lawnmower rev its engine. It was Saturday, and mowing the lawn was something people did on the weekends. She glanced at her phone, 7:46am. It was too early for this!

Sighing loudly, Trixie launched herself from the bed into the shower. In a rushed packing frenzy, she had at least remembered to bring her own shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, which she was incredibly grateful for when she realized all her grandmother had left in the house was a bottle of 3 in 1 Suave basics.

She let the hot water run over her hair and cascade down her back, until she began to feel it run cold. Stepping out, she dried off and haphazardly ran her fingers through her hair. She wasn’t about to do some fancy pinned up style, since no one in rural Wisconsin would appreciate it, so she let her natural curls do their thing. 

She dressed in a simple pink tshirt and jeans before heading downstairs to make some coffee. Her grandmother must have left some kind of caffeinated beverage behind. She managed to make a basic cup of coffee, sweeten it with far more sugar and cream than she would ever admit, and also find some bananas that weren’t too far gone yet. The breakfast of champions, right?

Slipping on her sandals, Trixie made her way outside to check the mail and see who was mowing their lawn so god damn early. She made the short journey to the mailbox, which had begun to rust at the sides, and pulled everything out. She looked around for the lawnmower but wasn’t having any luck pinpointing the noise. All the houses in the area were hidden between old trees, providing plenty of cover. Trixie didn’t know any of the neighbors anymore and she didn’t really want to rekindle those relationships.

She turned to go back inside just as the noise stopped. Once again, Trixie looked around, this time to see a woman coming towards her. Great. One of the neighbors was not only an early riser, but also overly friendly.

The woman had long, wavy, dirty blonde hair that hung down past her shoulders. She wore a white tshirt with red script in a language Trixie couldn’t recognize (Russian maybe?) with simple jean shorts and sneakers. Hidden under a baseball cap were the most beautiful set of sea green eyes Trixie had ever seen, accompanied by harsh cheekbones and features. She was beautiful in a sort of striking way, one that Trixie had never really seen before.

“Who are you?” The woman asked, once she was directly in front of Trixie.

“Trixie, Trixie Mattel,” she started, “My grandparents used to own this home. My grandmother passed and left it to me so I’m taking care of it until I figure out what I want to do.”

“I’m Katya,” The woman held a hand out, her nails painted black. Trixie shook it and smiled. The woman returned the favor with a set of perfect, bright white teeth, making Trixie feel a little self-conscious about her own. “I live just down the road here. Your grandmother was a wonderful woman. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, it means a lot,” Trixie anxiously swayed from foot to foot.

“Are you going to be in the area for a while?” Katya asked.

“I live in LA currently, but until all the funeral things are done, I’ll be here,”

“Well, if you get bored, hungry, or just need another person around, let me know. I’m the house with the yellow shutters on the right,” Katya gestured into the wind, presumably also the direction of her home.

Trixie laughed. “Thank you, it was nice meeting you,”

“You as well, Trixie,” Katya said, turning on her heel, before making her way back to her house. In a few moments, Trixie heard the lawnmower start up again and she cringed inside. Morning people were the worst.

She sat down at the dining room table, piles of papers in her hands, as she sorted through the will and other documents her grandmother had prepared during a better time. Trixie got the house, everything in it, and the majority of the money. Some went to her mom and her other cousins, but it paled in comparison to what she was left. Trixie knew they didn’t have a lot of money but seeing it on paper really confirmed that. She felt subconsciously felt guilty for receiving the largest amount but shrugged that feeling aside since this must have been what her grandmother wanted.

She made a few phone calls and began the preparations. She was put in touch with a funeral parlor, caterer, and florist by an old friend who still lived in Wisconsin. Pearl had been generous enough to give her some recommendations, since Trixie was completely out of touch with the area anymore.

When lunch time rolled around, Trixie was knee deep in cookie selections for the reception. She could feel her brain cells popping. She was going to go insane if she didn’t take a break soon, so she decided to call up Pearl on the off chance she was available for a quick lunch.

“Trixie!” Pearl practically shouted with excitement. “How’s Wisconsin treating ya?”  
“It’s been better. I’ve been working on funeral stuff all morning,” Trixie said with no emotion behind her voice. She was devastated with the loss of her grandmother, sure, but there was no sense in getting worked up about it every time someone mentioned it.

“You poor thing,” Pearl sighed. “I’m so sorry girl, this really sucks.”

“It’s okay,” Trixie said. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch on the off chance you’re not already booked?”

“Works for me! Let’s meet at this adorable café about ten miles out. It’s called Shuga’s, and they have really great coffee!” Pearl piped up.

“Alright see you in about a half hour?” Trixie asked.

“Yep! Bye!” Pearl said, disconnecting their call. 

Trixie straightened up her papers, put her phone on silent, and headed out the door. Funeral preparations would simply have to be on the backburner right now for her own sanity.

She was about to head out when she realized she completely forgot to order a rental car for the week. Shit. She would have to take her grandmother’s old Cadillac. The car was her grandmother’s pride and joy. She had bought it when it was new… in 1973. The sedan was a powderpuff yellow color and instantly recognizable to anyone in town, which used to make Trixie so embarrassed as a teenager who was just “too cool” for that kind of attention. 

Trixie found the key resting on the leather seat and cranked over the engine. Without a moment of hesitation, the car roared to life. As she steered it out of the garage, she could feel the old-style frame lean with every movement. This thing was a beast.

She rolled up to Shuga’s and was able to nail a great parking spot right in front of the café. That was the good thing about living in rural Wisconsin, not a lot of people meant that you could always find a parking spot. She locked the car behind her and walked inside to meet Pearl.

The décor was charming in a rustic kind of way. Everything looked like it had come from a trendy thrift store, with the mismatched chairs and tables scattered seemingly haphazardly across the dining room. The large counter was covered in handmade mugs and jars full of coffee beans. Across the floor, Trixie spotted Pearl sitting with a menu in her hands.

She hadn’t changed much since Trixie had left. Her previously platinum locks had been cut short into an asymmetric bob and re-dyed to their natural dirty blonde. She wore a deep smoky eye despite her relatively casual attire of a simple t-shirt and jeans. 

“Hey stranger!” Trixie said, watching Pearl’s face light up as they stood and embraced one another in a hug.

“It’s been a while. How’s the Hollywood Starlet?” Pearl joked lightly.

“I’ve been better, I’ve been worse,” Trixie shrugged.

Before they could get further into their conversation, a woman with a dark brown ponytail approached their table.

“Hey ladies, what can I getcha started with?” She asked, pulling a pen and paper from her apron, stained from use over the day.

“I’ll take a latte made with almond milk please,” Pearl said.

“Same thing,” Trixie requested, not knowing what was good here and blindly following Pearl.

“Coming right up! I’ll be back to take your lunch order,” The woman turned on her heel and headed back behind the counter, pulling two mismatched mugs off the shelf.

“Thanks, Shuga!” Pearl called behind her.

“So, how’s the planning going? Do you need any help with anything?” Pearl turned back to Trixie.

“You’re awfully cheery today,” Trixie commented. “Did you turn over a new leaf while I was gone or something?”

“Nah. My dealer hooked me up with some new good stuff he just got in, if you catch my drift. Anyways, I’m being serious, Trix. I know this isn’t your favorite place in the world so if you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?” Pearl insisted.

“I promise,” Trixie smiled sheepishly.

“Good, so are you headed back to the Land of Sunshine and Dreams once you wrap up everything here?” Pearl asked.

“I don’t know. My manager just dumped my contract so I’m a bit lost. I did sell some songs, but I don’t want to just be a ghost writer. As a singer, I haven’t been able to get beyond a few dive bar gigs,” Trixie complained.

“You can always find a new manager. It was a shit decision on their part to dump you. They’re gonna regret it one day, kinda like the guy who dumped Queen and then lost like a billion dollars or something,” Pearl tried her best to make Trixie feel better.

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t have anything keeping me there right now. My grandparents left me the house, so I’ve been tossing around the idea of staying here for a little. I could pay off some things, get some inspiration, and relax before I go back to LA,” Trixie thought out loud.

“You can’t let your soul die here, Trix,” Pearl countered.

“I know that, but it doesn’t hurt to go back to my roots, right?” Trixie asked.

“You’re seriously thinking about this, aren’t you? Even after you did everything in your power to get out of here?” Pearl was cut off by Shuga delivering their drinks.

“Here you go, girls. What will it be for lunch?” Shuga placed the two mugs down in front of them.

They placed their order, Trixie going with a salad and Pearl deciding on a panini. Shuga danced back into the kitchen and began working on their food.

“I’ll support you in whatever you decide but I’m just a little shocked by this,” Pearl said, taking her first sip of the latte. “God, Shuga really knows how to make a damn good cup of coffee.”

“I don’t have to decide right now. I have at least a week to get through all the funeral stuff before I have to figure out what to do with the house and if I want to go back,” Trixie took a sip of her drink as well, relishing in the feeling of the warm liquid hitting her mouth. She had to agree with Pearl, Shuga knew what she was doing when it came to coffee.

“Yeah, exactly. Don’t rush into anything and just get through the issue at hand now,” Pearl reassured.

They caught up further, discussing everything from the changing weather, to the new small shops in town, to Pearl’s latest boy stories. Trixie felt like she was back in high school, spending her time with one of her dearest friends. Pearl had never wanted to leave Wisconsin quite as bad as Trixie, despite her dreams of being a celebrity DJ, so it was calming to know that souls like theirs could survive in the deep country.

“Are the neighbors up at the house still all the same families as when we were kids?” Pearl asked.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen much of them since I got back, except for one. I know she’s new,” Trixie had largely forgotten about her conversation with Katya until just now.

“Who is it?” Pearl questioned, digging for details.

“She said her name was Katya and that’s about all I know, except that she mows her lawn at an ungodly hour in the morning,” Trixie said.

Pearl had a weird look on her face and was about to say something when Shuga dropped off their lunches. Trixie hadn’t seen such a pretty looking salad in quite some time. Shuga asked if they needed anything, to which they said no, and she told them to enjoy before whisking off to her next task.

“What’s that look for? Do you know her or something?” Trixie asked.

“I’ve heard some weird things about her, Trix. So be careful with that one,” Pearl looked down at her panini, pulling the two pieces apart so it could cool.

“What do you mean?” Trixie questioned. Sure, it was kind of odd that Katya mowed her front yard before 8am, but she didn’t come off as exceptionally strange.

“I’ve been told her house is decorated with taxidermy animals and her mother was a mail order Russian bride. I also heard the reason her teeth are so white is because she is a meth addict and all her teeth fell out, so she replaced them with fake ones. Violet told me she doesn’t ever really drive and when she does, she blasts Russia music through the speakers. She’s just weird,” Pearl managed to keep a straight face despite the ridiculousness of the statements.

“And you believe all that?” Trixie snorted, trying to keep from laughing.

“You know how rumors are around here, Trix. They don’t get started unless there’s at least a little bit of truth to them,” Pearl took a bit of her sandwich.

“That just sounds a little ridiculous,” Trixie was still giggling.

“You’re right that it’s probably small-town gossip but, just in case, be careful around her, okay?” Pearl gave Trixie a serious look, not a hint of humor behind her eyes.

“Fine,” Trixie said, stabbing her salad.

They finished their lunches, paid and tipped Shuga, and headed out. They exchanged goodbyes and promises to hang out again while Trixie was still in the area. Pearl once again offered her services if Trixie needed anything, to which Trixie thanked her and told her she would be alright.

Trixie drove home, steering the yellow beast through the winding country roads. The radio was on, but she couldn’t hear it. Trixie was too caught up in her own thoughts. Pearl wasn’t usually one to get caught up in the small-town drama that was associated with rural Wisconsin. What she had heard about Katya must have been particularly compelling for her to get so defensive over it so quickly. 

It didn’t make sense to Trixie, though. Katya might be a bit odd, but she didn’t seem dangerous or overtly strange during their brief discussion on the sidewalk. Trixie would have to get to know Katya a bit better before she jumped to any conclusions herself, since that was only fair. 

She parked the yellow beast in the garage and made sure to lock it, even though nobody in the neighborhood would dare mess with it, except maybe a racoon. She returned to the kitchen table, once again busying herself in funeral preparations. Her goal was to have them complete by the end of the day, so she could spend the rest of the week relaxing before the big day. It would also give her plenty of time to think if she wanted to stay in the area or return to the West Coast. 

The minutes turned into hours, until the sun began to set. Trixie made sure every last box was checked before she put all the paperwork away. The viewing would happen on Thursday night, with the funeral on Friday morning. There would be refreshments and flowers at both, with a religious official to perform the burial. It was currently Monday night, which gave her about four days to get her shit together. Was it enough time? Probably not. Would it have to do? Yes… since she didn’t really have another choice. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was well after 10am when Trixie finally drug herself out of bed the next morning. Honestly, it was probably pushing closer to noon, but she wasn’t about to look at a clock to check and then feel bad for taking time for herself. It had been a long time since she was able to sleep in as late as she wanted, and she was going to take advantage of the opportunity while she had it. 

She haphazardly threw on sweats and a t-shirt, tied her hair up in a bun, and waltzed her way down the stairs in search of coffee. She brewed a pot and waited, inevitably glancing at the clock on the oven. It was 11:26am, not bad, but certainly not great. 

It was a cool, rainy June day. And on cool, rainy days, Trixie loved to bake. It was something she always did with her grandmother, when the air was held a slight chill and the overcast sky misted the woods with rain. 

She pulled the stand mixer out from one of the lower cabinets. It was the exact same one she remembered from her childhood, with its cherry colored gloss paint. She dug through the pantry, finding all the basics to at least whip up some simple cookies. Her grandmother’s house was always well stocked with baking ingredients, and now was no exception.

Trixie opened her grandmother’s recipe binder, which held all the recipes she grew up eating. Even in the technology age, her grandmother insisted on writing down all her recipes by hand on lined notepaper so they would be “easier to find” since “those computers are too damn complicated.” Trixie used to roll her eyes at that, but now she was grateful that her grandmother had passed along this book.

Trixie absentmindedly flipped through the delicate pages, most of which were stained with batters from baking adventures past. Eventually, she stumbled upon the coffee cake recipe. Immediately, her mouth started watering as she remembered the taste of the sugary breakfast treat from her childhood.

She preheated the oven and greased the pan before whipping up the batter. The house began to feel like a home again, with freshly baked delicacies and the scent of cinnamon wafting from the walls. She assembled the cake, being sure to evenly place the sugary crumbles between the cake batter layers and stuck it in the oven. She set a timer before placing herself on the couch in front of the TV. 

The morning news was long over, forcing Trixie to scan through numerous shitty daytime programs before eventually settling on Judge Judy (it was a total classic!) As Judge Judy scolded the offenders, Trixie’s mind wandered. She had completed the funeral preparations, so she should feel at ease, right? Despite the knowledge that every T was crossed, something was still eating at her. Trixie still hadn’t decided what to do with the house, or if she would return to LA, and that was seriously gnawing at her stomach.

As she let the crushing weight of the decision wash over her, she was pulled out of her thoughts by the beep on the oven timer. She leapt up from the couch, shaking off the decision she would eventually have to make, and slipped on some mitts before retrieving the coffee cake from the oven. She took in the delicious and familiar smell as she placed it atop the stove to cool for a few minutes.

Trixie absentmindedly scrolled through her Instagram and checked her notifications while she waited for the coffee cake to reach a reasonable temperature. She realized she had gained a new follower – @katya_zamo. Trixie only knew one Katya, so who else could it be? She clicked on the profile and was immediately met with a selfie of Katya wearing bright red lipstick. The same Katya from across the street. The same Katya that Pearl warned her about.

Trixie debated scrolling through her entire profile but decided she really shouldn’t stalk Katya’s Instagram. She retrieved a knife from the drawer and cut into the coffee cake. Hopefully, the sugar and butter would be a nice distraction from the chaos that was swimming around in her head.

However, she found herself scrolling through Katya’s profile anyway as she ate a few pieces of coffee cake. It was eccentric to say the least. There were numerous selfies, funny photoshops of her face onto things, a few complicated yoga poses, and pictures of miscellaneous strange objects. Trixie only had one conversation with Katya, but she suddenly had a better sense of her personality from her page. There were no pictures of taxidermy animals or fake teeth, and only a few Russian captions.

Trixie thought about sending her a message. Besides Pearl and a few other elderly people she has known since she was a baby, Katya was the only person she knew in this town anymore. It might be nice to get to know her better if Trixie was going to stay in the area. Of course, she hadn’t decided that yet, she was just keeping her options open.

Suddenly, as she was cutting herself her third piece of coffee cake, Trixie had an idea. She knew Katya lived up the road in the house with the yellow shutters. She could simply bring over a couple pieces of coffee cake and see if Katya was up for a chat. It would be a good way to take her mind off of things and also get to confirm if Pearl’s rumors were actually true. She had to admit she was curious to know if Katya’s house was really filled with taxidermy animals.

She tugged on some sneakers, tied her hair up into a slightly neater messy bun, placed some cut pieces of coffee cake on a fancy plate wrapped in plastic, and headed towards Katya’s house. Trixie couldn’t remember a house with yellow shutters growing up. Maybe Katya had painted them or replaced them when she moved in? It was also entirely possible she never took notice of them until now.

She bumbled up the stone path, leading to a few steps before a tiny concrete porch, and knocked on the front door. Trixie had no idea if Katya was home or not. She didn’t have any way to contact her first and verify – she was completely winging this. As she waited, she took inventory of her surroundings. There was no car in the driveway and all the curtains were drawn so Trixie couldn’t see inside. She stood for a few beats, anxiously tapping her foot against the cement. 

As Trixie was just beginning to consider leaving, she heard the turning of at least three locks before the door swung open. Katya stood behind the glass storm door, her face contorted with confusion, but it quickly turned to elation as she realized it was Trixie standing in front of her.

“Hey! Trixie, right?” Katya opened the storm door and took a step forward to stand face to face with Trixie. Trixie was down a step, still standing on the cement porch, but due to their height difference Katya was level with her.

“Yeah, hey! I’m sorry to just show up like this without giving you a warning first but I made coffee cake and I would totally make myself sick if I ate the whole thing so I figured I would bring you some,” Trixie rambled, awkwardly holding out the plate of coffee cake.

“What did I do to deserve such an honor?” Katya joked and accepted the plate with that bright white smile that could blind oncoming traffic.

“You’re kind of like the only person I know any more in the neighborhood, so you received this by default,” Trixie said, not willing to admit her pure curiosity and mysterious attraction to Katya sparked her to deliver the treats.

“Well, I thank you regardless,” Katya stepped aside and gestured for Trixie to come in.

“You’re welcome. I was feeling nostalgic and baking just felt like the right thing to do today,” Trixie stepped inside and was a little shocked with what she saw.

She didn’t know what she was expecting for Katya’s house, but it certainly wasn’t this. Upon entering the house, she stepped into the living room. There were two cream color couches, decorated with red accent pillows and unique pieces of art hung from the walls. In the center was the most ornate brick fireplace Trixie had ever seen, with a set of Russian nesting dolls on the mantle. She followed Katya into the kitchen, which was just beyond the living room, and was greeted with dark cherry cabinets and warm granite countertops. It looked like something out of a home and gardens magazine, not the house of horrors Pearl had described.

“I just have to try this,” Katya said as she peeled back the plastic atop the cake. “It smells wonderful!”  
“Thanks. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. We used to make it together and eat it on Sunday mornings. It didn’t feel right to be alone with it today,” Trixie admitted.

“Oh my god,” Katya moaned as she bit into a piece, red lips encircling the delicate pastry. Trixie noticed she was staring at them and averted her gaze.

“Do you approve?” Trixie joked, already knowing the answer.

“Holy shit, Trixie this is so good,” Katya said with her mouth full.

“Good! I’m glad!” Trixie said, meaning more than just the coffee cake. She was glad to be in Katya’s house and getting to know her better.

“I’m going to make some coffee to go with it. Want some?” Katya asked as she began filling the pot with water. Trixie mentally fist bumped the air, knowing she would get to stay a little longer.

“Yes, please!” Trixie said, taking a seat at the bar attached to the kitchen island. The barstools looked like they had come from an old bar, with their red leather tops popped and exposing the foam beneath. The brushed metal legs were dented and scratched, which made them look a little out of place amongst Katya’s nice house.

“So how are things down the road?” Katya asked, looking to spark conversation.

“Alright. I spent most of yesterday working on funeral preparations and basically have everything set and ready. The viewing will be on Thursday and the actual funeral on Friday. I can’t wait until it’s over with,” Trixie said, fiddling with a ring on her finger.

“I understand. I went through that with my grandfather a few years ago. At least your grandmother wasn’t Russian Orthodox, so you don’t have to have a five-hour long funeral,” Katya turned around to face Trixie, resting her hands on the counter behind her. Trixie couldn’t help but notice how defined the muscles in her arms were and how effortlessly her blonde waves cascaded down past her shoulders when she wasn’t sweaty from mowing the lawn.

Trixie chuckled – she couldn’t help it. Sure, it was morbid, but Katya returned her smile, so she knew she didn’t come off like a total asshole.

“So, what’s your story, Trixie?” Katya asked. “I’ve lived here a couple years now and never once seen your beautiful face in this neighborhood.”

That got Trixie’s attention. 

“I moved out as soon as I could after graduating high school and set my sights on stardom in LA. I’ve sold a couple songs and performed a couple bar gigs but haven’t made it big yet. My management just dumped me, and my grandmother died, leaving me everything, so now I’m back for a little while, at least until the funeral is over and I can get the house on the market,” Trixie said, watching Katya’s head turn with inquisition.

“So, you sing?” Katya clarified.

“Kind of. I’m a better song writer than I am a singer, but I manage,” Trixie confessed. She didn’t entirely believe it, but it’s what her management had always said.

“I’m sure you’re amazing,” Katya said with sincerity. She turned as the coffee maker beeped, pulling two mugs from the cabinet above. “Cream and sugar?”

“Both please. Extra sugar,” Trixie requested.

Katya prepared their coffee, leaving hers black all except for a small splash of cream. She placed Trixie’s mug down and propped herself against the island directly across from Trixie. Katya rested her elbows down, leaning forward on the island. Her black v-neck tee left little to the imagination, should Trixie’s eyes stray from her piercing seafoam ones.

“I take it you’re heading back to LA soon after the ceremonies then?” Katya asked.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. I really don’t have anything left there. I might stay here for a while, get some inspiration and resettle myself before I go back to that hellscape,” Trixie said.

“I understand,” Katya started. “I grew up in Boston, so I know just how draining the city can be. It’s like everyone is constantly trying to get ahead and it can be exhausting after some time.”

“Especially in LA. It’s like they eat souls for a living,” Trixie said, causing Katya to break into a wheezing laugh and place the hand that was holding her coffee mug on Trixie’s forearm. Katya felt soft, her grip almost grounding.

“You’re probably right there. I never wanted to leave the East Coast for a reason. Sure east-coasters can be cold – we do have to endure brutal winters – but we’re not nearly as absolutely bitter as those on the West Coast,” Katya said, trying to get her laughter under control. Her hand moved from Trixie’s arm, and Trixie missed the contact.

“So, how’d you end up here?” Trixie asked, genuinely curious.

“Got sick of Boston and ran away to the furthest place I thought I could stand,” Katya said. “I’ve tended bars my whole life but took a data analysis job because there were only two bars in town, and neither was hiring.”

“I could never be a bartender,” Trixie took a sip of coffee. Trixie wasn’t sure what kind it was, but it tasted damn good. She couldn’t figure out if it was because of the type of coffee or because Katya had prepared it for her.

“It takes a special skillset for sure. Plus, when you’re a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, it makes it extra fun. It’s like playing the video game on extra hard instead of regular,” Katya wheezed again, and Trixie laughed along with her.

They continued to make small talk and enjoy their coffee. Trixie hadn’t felt this connected to anyone in a while. Katya was funny, charming, and intelligent, making her a delight to be around. Trixie only hoped Katya was feeling the same way.

“If you want to get your mind off stuff on Thursday before the viewing, I could make us some dinner or something. I know when people die you’re supposed to bring the hot meals to them but honestly, I’m not sure I trust you to return my dishes just yet,” Katya joked, “so instead of bringing the meal to you, you come to the meal. How about that?”

“On the day of my grandmother’s viewing, you’re going to make me leave my house. Unacceptable!” Trixie said coyly, getting a smile out of Katya. “That sounds lovely, but you don’t have to do that.”

“Really, it’s no big deal. I don’t mind. If we’re being honest, I don’t have a lot of friends in this area and I seem to have tricked you into thinking I am a semi-decent human being, since you brought me coffee cake, and I want to return the favor,” Katya’s eyes bore into her’s, seafoam mixing with chocolate brown.

“Thank you,” Trixie said sincerely.

Trixie saw herself out and headed back towards her house. The rain had let up, but the morning was still cool and foggy. She could feel the mist causing her hair to frizz, making her look like she put her fingers in an electrical socket. Her mind was spinning as she placed one foot in front of the other, the feeling of puddles splashing into her low-cut sneakers the only thing keeping her grounded. Trixie suspected that Pearl would be wrong about Katya, but she didn’t know just how wrong that would turn out to be. Katya was bright, charming, hilarious, and effortlessly gorgeous. She had called Trixie beautiful in an offhand comment, and Trixie could not stop thinking about it.

Trixie stepped inside her front door, discarding her wet shoes. She untied her hair, letting it cascade down her back, feeling the moisture press into her skin through the light cotton fabric of her t-shirt. She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. Katya was one of the most intriguing people she had ever met, but she had to remind herself not to get attached. Depending on what she decided (and she still totally had no idea where she stood on this) she might be heading back to LA at the end of the week.

She flopped down on the couch, letting her heart rate return to normal and desperately trying to think about anything other than Katya. Her phone rested on her chest and she heard the familiar ding of a notification vibrate against her ribcage. She lifted the phone and saw she had an Instagram message waiting for her. She slid her finger across the screen, waited while the app loaded, and was met with a picture of an empty plate.

_@katya_zamo: it didn’t last long._

Trixie laughed as she tried to think of a clever response.

_@trixiemattel: Is that what you said to your last boyfriend?_

She saw the checkmark appear, indicating that Katya had read her response. A few seconds later, a bubble popped up.

_@katya_zamo: Honey, I stay far away from men. Never had any complaints._

Trixie felt a wave of relief and desire wash over her. Katya was gay. Sure, Trixie definitely picked up those vibes when she called her beautiful earlier, but it was always good to have confirmation.

_@trixiemattel: Same here._

She couldn’t think of anything witty to say that would not only reveal she was a useless lesbian, but also not come off too strong.

_@katya_zamo: Good to know ;)_

Trixie found herself smiling as she read Katya’s latest message. What the hell was she doing? Flirting with Katya was fun, but she didn’t want to lead her onto something that she wouldn’t even be around to finish.

She threw her phone onto the floor and flung her head back onto the pillow.

Little did Trixie know; Katya was in a similar position.

After Trixie left, Katya rested her back against the front door, letting her shoulders relax as she sighed out the tension she had been holding in them. It was totally a cliché from a movie, but she slid down, eventually coming to rest on the floor, sitting back on her heels. What was she doing? Shamelessly flirting with Trixie, inviting her in, making her the expensive coffee blend she kept only for Sunday’s and special guests instead of the regular blend she tolerated every morning. She shook her head. Trixie had initiated the conversation by bringing her homemade cakes, so she was clearly interested in Katya at least somewhat. It was the best surprise that had showed up on her doorstep in a while.

Katya wanted to text her but realized in the midst of the unexpected encounter had completely forgotten to get Trixie’s phone number. After their brief discussion over Katya mowing the lawn yesterday, she had searched social media trying to find her out of pure curiosity. It wasn’t every day a living version of Malibu Barbie, with the body to match the look, showed up in rural Wisconsin. There was only one Trixie Mattel, so it hadn’t been a particularly challenging search. Out of options, Katya decided to Instagram message Trixie. Now, she just had to figure out what to say.

She placed the remaining coffee cake into a container in the fridge and sent Trixie a picture of the empty plate. She would absolutely finish the treats tomorrow, but what Trixie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

_@katya_zamo: it didn’t last long._

That was it. That was all Katya could come up with. She certainly wasn’t the most creative when it came to flirting, if you could even call it that. Shortly after sending, she received a notification that Trixie had read the message and was writing a response.

_@trixiemattel: Is that what you said to your last boyfriend?_

Katya felt her blood run cold for a moment. Trixie was clearly interested in her as well and trying to gauge the situation.

_@katya_zamo: Honey, I stay far away from men. Never had any complaints._

Katya smiled upon hitting the send button.

_@trixiemattel: Same here_.

Katya chuckled, knowing that her response had thrown Trixie off her game and that’s why she didn’t receive some sort of clever quip.

_@katya_zamo: Good to know ;)_

Katya placed her face in her hands. What was she doing? She was a grown woman, with a job and a house, shamelessly flirting with a girl who’s grandmother had just died.

Then again, Trixie had mentioned she might be going back to LA after everything was done. This could be a fun, short term thing that would give Katya just enough time to have fun before Trixie headed back to LA and inevitably forget about her in favor of some young West Coaster who had similar big dreams. But for now, this might be a fun chase and definitely a change from her usual. She was always looking for one big love that would lead her to a lifelong partner, but a quick break in the meantime couldn’t possibly hurt, right?

Katya managed to peel herself off the floor and put her phone down so she wouldn’t continuously message Trixie until Trixie got tired of her. She busied her mind by getting some work done and searching through recipes to find something fancy enough that it would impress Trixie for their pending dinner on Thursday. The only problem was… she had no idea how to cook.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this new story. It's something I've been thinking about for a while. I can't wait to see where this goes. Your comments keep me going, so feel free to leave them below. Thank you for reading, -G


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